The Eye of the Storm
by HogwartsPrincess89
Summary: A collection of drabbles about strong witches battling the horrors of war, hence the title. Some will involve hurt/comfort from those who know what it's like to feel alone and afraid, others will manage on their own. Started off as a Dramione one-shot but morphed into something more. M for strong possibly disturbing themes.
1. Hermione Jean Granger

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

It was over, they'd won. So why did she feel so empty? Why did she feel as though nothing mattered? The weeks that had followed the battle had been rough. There was so much rebuilding: of the school and of broken hearts. There had been funeral after funeral and she stood through them all stoically. It wasn't that she didn't feel anything, it was that she had to be strong for everyone else. They depended on her, needed her to be a constant pillar. And she hated them for it.

Not one of the Weasley's or Harry had put a comforting hand on her shoulder or allowed her to grieve. She'd lost family too but they didn't seem to notice. Her hand shot up to her arm, a constant reminder of the horrors they had faced. She was exhausted, she hadn't slept in far too long. When she tried, nightmares plagued her mind so she stayed up and helped others through the night.

She looked around, noticing no one was talking to her. She was alone as everyone comforted each other; a rare moment. She could slip away without anyone noticing and she took it the first chance she got. She felt her body move, her feet taking her where she wanted to go. The corridors familiar through the rubble. They were unnaturally empty and quiet but even so the soft thud of her footsteps went unheard in the wake of grief that surrounded the castle.

She made it to the room of requirement and took a shaky breath. She was sick of being strong. "Granger?" Draco Malfoy had publicly switched to the right side and fought against his family and all of his previous beliefs during the battle. She turned around to find genuine concern in his expression, he wanted to help.

She looked into his eyes and couldn't take any of it anymore. She was strong, but the weight had grown heavy. He spoke again. "Are you alright?" Those words broke her and she launched herself into his arms and cried. She sobbed out all of her grief. For her parents, her friends, her family, all the innocents they had lost. She sobbed for her own pain, suffering, and fear. She sobbed in anger that until him no one had asked her how **she** was doing.

He held her close, not saying a word, simply being there. His grey eyes a swirl of emotions, holding her steady against her storm of grief. They stayed like that for hours, until her cries eventually subsided into quiet staggered breaths. "Thank you." She muttered, embarrassed. He smiled a genuine albeit sad smile and brushed a tear from the side of her face. "Anytime… Hermione. You don't have to be strong all the time, not in front of me. You went through a lot; you deserve some comfort too."

She looked at him through puffy eyes and took his hand. "Want to go for a walk?" "What about your friends?" "They won't miss me." "They're gits then." He intoned. A corner of her mouth quirked upwards slightly. "Maybe a little." He dropped their hands and she frowned but he put his arm around her, a silent sign of support. She gave him a real smile then, and together they walked out onto the grounds, revelling in each other's comfort.


	2. Lily Evans P

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Her mind was breaking her. She was overwhelmed, angry, depressed, scared. A torrent of emotions passed through her and her mind refused to give her a break. Trying not to hyperventilate, she knocked over a picture in her haste to put on her running shoes. She picked it up and almost broke down at the sight of it. It was a picture of her and all of her best friends. The girls she had shared a room with since she was eleven.

Only two of them were still alive, one being her, and who knew how long even they would last. Hands shaking, she placed it down and hurried out the door. She disillusioned herself and ran.

Each stride took away a little bit of her pain. Gone were the losses, gone the threat of death. Gone were the memories that refused to let go of her. And finally she was free from it all. All that remained was the sound of her feet against the pavement and the aching in her lungs that made her feel alive.

She ran until her muscles screamed and the smile on her face couldn't be wiped off. This had been her coping mechanism when she was young and it was the only thing that helped her now. Well, just about. She still had some family left. Her husband looked up as she walked in the door.

Their eyes met, the gaze full of knowing. He too was drenched in sweat, although it was from Quidditch, not running. He had been doing the same thing she had. Letting go of everything to escape the harsh reality of the horrors they lived with every day. "Hi love." He murmured into her hair as she threw herself into his arms. His hazel eyes, once full of mischief, had become sad and tired but at the sight of her they danced with life again. Her emerald eyes showed defiance as she waged a war against her own defeat.

They were too young to feel this old, this weighed down by horror. He pressed a kiss to her forehead as a tear fell from her face. "How could we have brought a baby into this James?" He tried for humor. "Well when a man and a woman love each other very much…" She glared at him and he grinned. He realized she wanted a real answer and softened. "Love Lils. Love, which conquers all evil. The most powerful magic in the world."

His sincerity gave her hope. She leaned against him, the feel of his arms around her comforting and let a small smile reach her face. "Love."

….

Two months later and a part of her died as she heard the words that ended her husband's life. Her eyes lit with defiance as she refused to let Voldemort break her. She stood in front of her son, wandless but not defeated, and faced the murdering bastard who had ripped so many of her loved ones from this world. In that instant her husband's words from that night came back to her and she knew how to save her son. She smiled as the jet of green light shot towards her because she knew. Love is the most powerful magic in the world.


	3. Nymphadora (Tonks) Lupin

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series is not mine.

Her heart was wrenched from her chest as she watched him fall. "Remus!" She screamed, the sound inhuman even to her own ears. Nymphadora had always been strong but at the sight of her husband dead on the ground she broke. Sobs were jerked from her chest of their own volition and she couldn't even tell if she was breathing anymore.

She took a breath to steady herself. She was an auror goddamn it, nothing broke her. She angrily brushed away the tears that wouldn't stop streaming down her face and whirled around in blind rage, firing spells at anything that moved.

Everything was blurred, she didn't even care who her spells hit anymore because he was gone. Her warm, loving, prankster, werewolf: the love of her life. But he lived on in their son. Teddy. Some sense came back to her as she remembered her son. The tears came faster, what kind of mother forgets about her child? She turned, just barely avoiding a killing curse and saw her.

Her deranged Aunt was standing in front of her, wand pointed at her throat. A cruel, unfeeling smile forced itself onto Nymphadora's face as she regarded the woman in front of her. "Auntie Bella, come to play?" Bellatrix's eyes lit up in delight. "I told your mother that mudblood would ruin her life and look what happened. He's dead and her dear Nymphadora is about to go the same way." She mocked.

Tonks snarled, hair turning fiery red. "Don't call me Nymphadora." And then they were fighting. She had never been in a more intense duel in her life. She shot spells at her Aunt with a reckless abandon she had never known before. Bellatrix's face hardened and she increased the speed and number of her spells

The world around them faded until all Tonks knew was the fight. She had trained under Moody, if she went down she would go down with a fight. The cutting spell severed some of Bellatrix's hair, inches away from her eye. The mad witch cackled, "Is that the best you can do, Dora?" Tonks shook at the nickname and the reminder it brought. She saw red and began slashing her spells, trying to hurt the witch in front of her as much as she could.

Bellatrix responded in kind and the air crackled around them from the force and amount of spells they sent at each other. Somehow she found herself some feet away from where they had started. She laughed humourlessly. "Is that all you've got? Don't tell me you've gone soft Auntie Bella." As she spoke her shield charm disintegrated, leaving her unprotected. "Avada Kedavra!"

She froze as the jet of green light sailed towards her. Her thoughts turned to her little boy. _I'm so sorry Teddy bear,_ she thought in the seconds before it hit her. _I wasn't strong enough to fight the pain. Please forgive me_. The force of the spell knocked her backwards and she tumbled down beside her fallen husband. She reached her hand towards his, the image of him lying there the last thing she would ever see. She spoke his name with her last breath. "Remus."


	4. Bellatrix Lestrange

Bellatrix didn't even try to blink away the tear that has escaped her eyelashes. Resigned, she put on emo music hoping that the feeling in the songs would cancel out her own, or at least channel it. How wrong she was. Instead of soothing her soul it acted as a catalyst. He'd whole body shook with the force of the sobs that were ripped unbidden from her chest.

Everything was wrong. She didn't fit in with anyone, too elitist for Sirius and most other people, not elitist enough for voldemort and Rodolphus and an enigma to everyone else. Her parents didn't care for her, only that she upheld their beliefs. Andromeda had abandoned them, Cissy was the only one who was there when she needed someone to listen. But even they were slightly strained with each other nowadays. The idea that she could take any sort of pleasure in torturing and murdering people didn't sit too well with her younger sister.

Regulus was the only one who truly understood how she felt. All she wanted was to keep her family name in good standing but she had lost herself somewhere along the way. Today she had learned that Reggie died. She had been in ruins long before this but his death had sent her to a dark place. She was catatonic and at the same time she felt way too much.

She knew that she was slowly descending into madness, that she was steadily losing control of her thirst for bloodlust. How had things gotten this bad so fast? She looked at herself in the mirror and seethed at the image she produced. The woman staring back at her looked like a lost little girl, red rimming the despair in her eyes. She slashed at the mirror angrily, sending it to the ground in pieces, not noticing or caring when shards lodged into her feet.

She looked at the door connecting her and Cissy's rooms. For less than a moment she allowed herself to contemplate asking her sister for help. She shook her head, a few errant tears falling to the ground. She was strong. She would not ask for help from anyone, even Cissy.

She Knew what she had to do. She'd tried everything to make it okay but nothing had worked. There was only one thing left that she could do to make the pain go away.

Tears streamed down her face as she finally gave in to the madness. She immediately ceased crying, her face and demeanour hardening. Bella Black was dead as Bellatrix Lestrange was born.


	5. Minerva McGonagall

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Minerva stared at the old piano, a rush of memories coming back to her. Of her mother and father, sat on the couch opposite listening to her play. Of her brothers, and how she hadn't seen them since before the second war. Of Dougal and how she had played for six straight hours after breaking off their engagement, how she had done the same when he married someone else. Of Elphinestone; how she wished she had agreed to marry him sooner so they could have had more time.

This room in her parents old house brought up every painful memory of her past, yet she had come anyways. Albus Dumbledore had just died. He had been a dear friend and confidant, she would miss him terribly, already did. Minerva prided herself on her strength, but today it had left her. That was the only reason she would have faced coming home.

She had lost so many loved ones she didn't want to count. It didn't matter, their names came anyways. Mum, Dad, Dougal, Elphinestone, Edgar, Benjy, Caradoc, Dorcas, Fabian, Gideon, Marlene, Frank, Alice, Lily, James, Sirius, Bertha, Pandora, Broderick, Amelia, Emmeline, and finally Albus. She knew that she would return here at least once more, he would not be the last person she would lose. But she needed this.

She sat down on the bench and laid her fingers on the worn keys. She took a brwath and lost herself in the familiar chords of an old song, Caledonia. It merged into her favourite classical pieces; Für Elise, Moonlight Sonata, Brahms' Waltz, and finally she landed on Chopin.

Her fingers worked from memory and allowed her mind to focus only on the music as it enveloped her. She breathed a sigh of relief at the comfort and numbness it gave her. An errant tear ran down her face when she got to the Chopin works. They were all so hauntingly beautiful; what she always turned to when she was feeling down.

She transferred all of her feelings into the music and when she finally finished she felt drained, but more at peace. She had mourned in her own way. She would get sad again but the worst of it had been cleansed by the music.

Not for the first time she wondered if she should buy her own piano or take this one out of this house so the memories wouldn't hit her quite so hard. She shut it down as she always had; seeing the piano everyday would make her too sad. She barely kept the feelings that were a reminder of those lost away on a normal day but seeing a piano everyday would make it worse.

She needed it and loved to play, but when she wasn't playing she hated the piano. It brought her heartache. She wasn't one to get upset so easily, but somehow simply seeing a piano had her troubled. With one last glance at the piano she walked out of her parents' house and back to the school, ready to face Albus' funeral.

Two years later and the war was over. As predicted she had lost so many more people since Albus had died. Right after Voldemort's defeat she had stayed in the Great Hall until most people had gone to bed and then she had slipped away. She moved silently through the quiet hallways until she was outside. She turned on the spot in front of the Black Lake and, apparition wards destroyed by the carnage, apparated away.

Her feet took her up the lane now lined with trees, the soft ground welcome under her tired feet. The road made a slight curve and a house appeared. It was a slightly more than modest two-story, made of beige brick, ivy climbing the walls. There was a balcony attached to the top window where a young girl had once taken salvation from her divided household.

She opened the door, it was never locked, and found her way down the hall and the stairs to the basement with only the moonlight guiding her. It spilled through the window and landed on her salvation and curse. Her piano.

With a wry smile, she began to play.


	6. Narcissa Malfoy

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: in honour of Harry Potter book night, a slightly less depressing installment featuring our favourite ice queen.

Narcissa closed the door quickly behind her. She looked at herself in the mirror and blew out a sharp breath, smoothing an errant hair back into her elegant bun. Lord Voldemort was constantly in her home. Well it had used to be a home, anyways. Until Bella had offered it up to be a sort of headquarters for the death eaters. She hadn't even asked first, and once it was out in front of the Dark Lord they had to let the offer stand. Always seem eager to please, never deny.

This was not the life she had wanted. She had fallen in love with Lucius and hoped she could change his mind about joining the death eaters. She had never wanted her husband to become this shell of the man he once was, suffering from Azkaban and terror. She had never wanted to become allied with their cause. And most of all she had **never** wanted her son to become one of them.

Her Draco. She had hoped he would escape the war altogether. But here he was, stuck in the middle of it, their house full of people expecting to become a torturer, a murderer. She wouldn't stand for it. And so he went back to Hogwarts. It was barely safer but at least he was away from most of them. And Severus was there. Severus would keep him alive.

"Cissy? Are you in there?" Bella's voice echoed through the door. "Yes. I will just be out in a moment." "Well be quick," her sister snapped, "the Dark Lord wishes to speak with you." She blanched slightly but did as she was told, her curiosity piqued. What could he possibly wish to talk to her about? The perfect demure pureblood wife who seemed to agree with everything that came out of his mouth?

Now she did agree with some of his ideals. She had been brought up thinking that mudbloods were scum but she did not believe that as radically anymore. And besides, the dark lord himself was only a halfblood. That bothered her more than anything else. A halfblood ruling over and bullying all the purebloods. "He's in the drawing room." He sister informed her before stalking away from her.

Of course he was in the drawing room. Narcissa walked down the halls of her own home, trying to remember a time when the walls hadn't felt like a cage, when there hadn't been blood in her carpet. She put up the walls around her mind and opened the door gently. The curtains were all drawn so as to make sure no light would be let in. Voldemort stood with his back to her, twirling his wand in his hands.

"You wished to speak with me, my Lord?" She questioned politely. Ever polite. Never letting him see how she really felt. She was a Black. She knew how to completely hide her emotions even better than he did. When he was angry it showed. But her face never betrayed a thing. How she hated him. How dare he be in her house when he had defied their family so? When he had attempted to make her son a murderer and succeeded with her husband?

"Ah. Narcissa." So she was getting a calm dark lord today. "Yes. I was hoping to ask you something." "Anything my Lord." He stared into her eyes and she returned the gaze unwaveringly. She felt him in her mind, unaware of the wall she had put up. He withdrew, seeming to have found no disobedience.

"I am most curious as to why you have not wished to join our ranks further." "I did not believe I was of a high enough position to obtain that reward." He chuckled dryly. "Indeed not. But you have proven yourself useful in providing a headquarters for me and a home for many of my death eaters. You always do as I wish, although you are not one of my followers. So if you wish it, you can join the ranks."

She pretended to consider his proposal. She had absolutely no intention of taking his mark. There were many reasons why, and she would tell him many of them in a few seconds. But mainly, she had to consider all outcomes of this war. She was a Slytherin through and through. Cunning, ambition, self-survival. If he lost she did not want a reason for them to put her in Azkaban. If she had a mark it could be argued that while she was aware of what he was doing, she had never completely aligned herself with him.

He raised an eyebrow. "I think I shall have to politely decline, my Lord. It is a huge honour and I thank you or giving it to me, however, I have no desire to dirty my hands with blood. A lady must be proper. And while I admire Bellatrix her deviation from tradition, I myself could never give up the pureblood rules I was raised on. It is just not who I am. As you know, we are quite rich but in order to stay so we need someone conducting family business. Since Lucius has been outed as a death eater he cannot influence as many people as he once could, and we need donations from the neutral purebloods. As such I have been dealing with them. If I were to be marked they would stop doing business with us and we may have to live in a way that does not suit our standing. And I have never been good with pain."

She played every part the good, meek pureblood who wishes to continue a profit. He would believe it because he wanted to. Voldemort cocked his head to one side, studying her. He verified the truth of her words in her mind and found them to be so. The reasons she had given him were very true, they just weren't the only reasons she had.

"Very well." He conceded. "Those are admiral reasons for refusing. I will not ask you this again." She took that statement as it was. A warning and a threat that this was the only time he would offer yes. But also a tiny bit of respect for her position as a wealthy pureblood. "You may go." She bowed her head to him slightly and made to leave, making sure not to walk too fast as to seem eager to leave his presence. She was almost to the door when he spoke once more: "Give my best to Draco when you write him, won't you?"

She turned, smiling. "Of course, my Lord." She swept from the room and didn't look back. Her jaw flexed ever so slightly. How dare he mention Draco. She let out a tiny breath and told herself to let it go. She was alive, and would never have to be marked. If she could have taken the mark for her son she would have, but the dark lord was also a Slytherin and knew that marking Draco would hurt Lucius more, and ensure that she never said a bad word against the cause.

Screams echoed out of multiple rooms as she passed. She ignored them. They were a common occurrence now, and if she meddled she would surely be tortured herself. She made to enter the her garden but one of the screams stopped her. They were the screams of an old man. "Please…" he begged. It couldn't be.

She entered the room to find Bellatrix standing over the body of a frail white haired man. A familiar white haired man. Mr. Ollivander. "Bella." She addressed her sister. "Cissy. Come to join the fun? The dark lord is finished with him so I figured I would have a little one on one before sending him to the dungeons. Crucio!"

Ollivander writhed in agony, screaming. He turned towards her and she was a little girl again. She saw the man who had told her that the wand that had chosen her only chose powerful witches. Those kind eyes had smiled at her as he had given her the key to her magic. She had watched as he had done the same for her sisters before her and Draco after her. His desperate eyes found hers and she turned away. Opting to watch as blood flowed down his arm as his nails dug in to it. She wondered if he even noticed through all the pain. "He's bleeding." She stated. "So?" "He's a pureblood Bella. The dark lord ordered us not to spill blood that is pure."

Her sister raised an eyebrow. "It's just a little bit, and he's not here right now is he?" "So you're only loyal when he can see you?" Bella snarled. "Fine. You can clean him up and take him to the dungeons then." She pushed past her angrily, knocking into her arm. She knelt beside the older man, taking out her wand and healing his arm. She cleaned the blood and sweat out of his clothes. He was shaking in pain. She wordlessly summoned a pain potion from the pantry and gave it to him. "Thank you." He whispered hoarsely. She didn't reply.

She put his arm around her to support some of his weight. "Thank you so much my dear." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes and it was just fake enough for him to notice. He smiled genuinely at her and she hated herself a little bit as she opened the cellar door and threw him in. His eyes met hers once more before she left and she saw forgiveness and sympathy in them.

She turned away quickly so as not to react. She actually made it through the screaming this time. She inhaled the clean air as she entered the garden. No one was ever out there, unless you counted Lucius' peacocks. One wandered over to her and she pet the top of its head. "Peach has always liked you." She spun, wand pointed at the intruders throat. "Easy Narcissa. It's just me." "Lucius." She breathed. "Don't do that." "Sorry." He murmured, not really paying attention.

"What are you doing out here?" She questioned. "Needed to escape. They were practicing on me since I no longer have a wand." She sat beside him on the bench. "I've told you you can have mine." "No!" He shouted. "No." He whispered. He turned to face her, eyes frantic with distress. "Not only would the dark lord be angry but you wouldn't have a wand. You need one with our…guests. In case someone tries something. Good thing you've never needed my protecting." She smiled softly. "Didn't stop you from trying though." He smiled half-heartedly and put his arm around her.

"I love you, you know." He told her. "Lucius…" "Draco too." He interrupted her. "I've done horrible things, but that has always been true. I need you to know that, in case something happens to me." She allowed a rare moment of vulnerability and laid her head on his shoulder. "I love you too." Is all she replied.

The following months were fraught with hardship. She had had to protect herself against a few of the other death eaters. She had had to step in between Bella and Draco. She had been tortured, harassed. Her smile never wavered. She had been careful never to make that mistake again after Ollivander.

Many months later and they apparated to Hogwarts. The final battle was under way. She was not a part of the fight and neither as Lucius. She was waiting alone at the back of the troop. Eventually she was called to the forbidden forest with the dark lord as per Bella's request. So that she would be kept safe. She scoffed in her mind. Where had her sister's care been at the manor? She watched in despair as the Potter boy was killed by the dark lord. He was Draco's age. Still just a boy.

She hoped his mother had not seen him get killed, wherever she was. She had been younger than Lily Potter (or Evans as she had been known back then) but she remembered her. Vivacious, smart, brave, strong Lily Potter. When she had found out she had died for her son, she had sympathized. She would do anything for Draco, she would give her life for his in a heartbeat. The dark lord requested her to check that he was dead.

She felt his breath and forced a calm expression. She leaned down as if to check for sure. "Draco, is he alive?" The boy nodded. She thought of his mother giving her life for him and how her own son was alive. She no longer cared about the outcome of the war, as long as Draco was alive. She turned to face the red slits that were Voldemort's eyes. She stared right into them and took a breath. "Dead."

Not long after, Molly Weasley killed her sister and although she was sad, she was also a little relieved. The Bella she had known had left a long time ago, replaced by an unstable and dangerous witch. If she had lived, she would have spent the rest of her life in Azkaban. As for 'Lord Voldemort' she had felt nothing but glee when his cold body hit the floor. Dead by his own curse. Served him right.

She ran to her son and wrapped her arms around him. A tear escaped down her cheek. "You're okay." She breathed. Lucius joined them. They pulled away from Draco and she looked at her husband. In an uncharacteristic display of affection, she threw her arms around him. His arms came around her waist as he hugged her tightly. Draco watched curiously. Their marriage had been arranged, yes. But there had always been a spark of attraction and they had come to love one another. She breathed in his scent, knowing he would soon be taken to Azkaban. The aurors came for him and pulled her out of his arms. She knew she may never see him outside of a cell ever again.

"I love you." She told him. Her son came to put an arm around her and her eyes never left her husband's as he was dragged away.


	7. Pansy Parkinson

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Pansy smirked at the man sitting opposite of her. He was clearly uncomfortable and she was loving every minute of it. She had been surprised when she had opened the door to the auror, they tended to avoid her unless it was important. All part of her rehabilitation, as they called it. She called it suffering. They were making her pay for her crimes.

She hadn't officially taken a side or been an actual death eater so they couldn't charge her with much. But they had charged her anyways. A couple of years living in the muggle world for offering to give Potter up to save some lives. Alright so it was mostly to save herself. But damn it she just hadn't wanted to die.

She understood though, that what she had done was wrong and since she had been a known supporter of Voldemort's views, she had been punished. Minor time served, they told her. You won't even go to Azkaban. As if they wouldn't have chucked her in there if they could have. Too many bad guys and not enough cells so the lighter charges got creative punishments. She believed those to be worse than Azkaban.

The young auror cleared his throat. Ronald Weasley was trying very hard to stick to his training and be unbiased towards her, but he hadn't quite succeeded. His ears were trademark Weasley red and his jaw was clenched ever so slightly. "I am here to offer you a new deal." She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" "You may go back to Hogwarts and redo your seventh year next year. If you do than you will only have to stay in the muggle world until September and after the school year, you will be free."

"A tempting offer. I'd like to decline." He let an annoyed puff of air out through his teeth. "This is a good deal Parkinson. You could go home." She regarded him coldly. "I don't have a home anymore." "You could make a new one." "Weasley I swear if you tell me start over or to be a new me I **will** punch you, rules be damned." His mouth twitched. "You could." Was all he replied. She said nothing, just stared at him, pleased as he tried not to squirm.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Take the week to think about it. I'll be back next Sunday and you can give me your answer then." She nodded. He left her alone in her flat. The offer of being free, of having a wand, was tempting. But there was no way she could go back to that place. What the Carrows had done in her first seventh year had been unthinkable. The things that she had done just as horrifying as anything they had.

She had nothing to go back to. Her mind strayed to a pair of brown eyes but she pushed the thought away. He definitely didn't want to see her. She barely slept that night, tortured by the choice Weasley had presented her with. The next morning she got up got ready and went to work. She was a cashier at some grocery store far away from wizarding civilization. Every day she woke up, put on the garish uniform and helped hundreds of people buy their groceries. She dreaded every day she was scheduled to come in.

She had scoffed when they had told her it would be a difficult job. She should have listened to them. Her whole days filled with rude, angry, ungrateful, spiteful customers who thought the world revolved around them. Her favourite was when they threatened to stop buying food there. Perfect, you won't dent our profits and I won't have to deal with you anymore.

Men leered at her and she felt her hand go for her wand to hex them. She didn't understand. She was wearing the ugliest shirt imaginable and there was absolutely nothing exposed or hinted at by the seams. They made comments too. She always felt disturbed and repulsed when they did. They were creepy and she hated the way they looked at her.

She hated everything about this job, if she was honest. The terrifyingly long hours with very little days off, the customers, the job itself, some coworkers that she didn't care for. Okay all of her coworkers. She was sick of this. She felt that the money (which she got to convert to galleons and keep) wasn't even worth it. Although she supposed it was a fitting punishment since it irked her so. And sweet Salazar, her feet hurt so bad she couldn't stand a couple of hours after she had had them up at home. They didn't have enough days of rest in between shifts to even stop hurting. They had called her in on a day off and as per the terms of the ministry, she was not allowed to refuse. She had cried real tears as she had answered that she would come in. She would rather live on the streets than work at this job any longer than she had to. That was how much she hated her job.

It was so horrible that she was leaning towards going back to Hogwarts. She was tough, work calling her in aside, and she could leave this all behind. She could complete her education, get her wand back, get a real job, a magical job where she was respected.

It would be hard though. Extremely hard. She would have to walk through the halls, remember the blood she saw spill into them. The blood she had caused. It was do as you were told or get slaughtered yourself. She had just been trying to survive. The eyes of first years haunted her dreams. She barely slept. Their screams stayed too. The echoed in her mind, a constant reminder. And this was away from the school.

How could she bear to see that place again? To see the places she herself had been tortured? Where she had been forced into sexual acts so she would live? Where they had made her have sex with the one man she had dreamed of having sex with. They had forced him too. That part upset her for multiple reasons. He would be offered the same. Minor crime, minor time. Could she handle seeing him? Would she ever be able to look into the brown eyes of Theodore Nott again?

She had secretly loved him and they had forced her to rape and be raped by him. Would she shudder every time he touched her? Or would she want him? She didn't know which was worse.

It was a difficult decision. But when Weasley walked unannounced into her flat Sunday morning she knew exactly what she was going to say. He sat down. "Well?"

"Yes. I'll go back." If he was surprised he didn't show it.

"Excellent. Your sentence ends August 31. I'll see you then."

"Goodbye." She responded.

She was doing the hard thing and for the first time in her life she realized what it was to work just to live. Now it was time to make her life better. Weasley had been right. She could make a new home. And so she smiled for the first time since she started her job in the muggle world. It was going to be incredibly difficult, but she was going to get the life she wanted. She was going to get the life she deserved.


	8. Cho Chang

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Her body shook with the weight of her sobs. Every one racked through her body, causing her to shudder with the force.

Cho was tired of crying. She was tired of losing people she loved to this war. Tired of feeling horrible every day of her life. Tired of never being enough, of never feeling like she was enough, of never feeling happy.

She had too many emotions bottled up inside of her and no one to care that she hadn't been happy for years. Since Cedric. Since his warm charm and easy nature. His comforting embrace and his smile. His smile. That smile could erase all of her pain. It could get her to do anything he asked. Not that he abused that, he was too much of a Hufflepuff, no, simply to good to manipulate her like that.

He had been so good, so pure. So handsome. Her heart ached for him every day. And then there had been Harry. And she had liked him in a different way. Thought that they shared a common sense of suffering.

She had thought that maybe he would talk to her about Cedric and she could finally let it all out and be lightened by the sharing of her pain. But that had been foolish. He hadn't wanted to talk about Cedric. Hadn't wanted to listen. She had been foolish to think that anyone would. She was alone.

The thought sent her into hysterics, she couldn't control her breathing or the tears streaming down her face. Her hand curled around her shirt, desperately trying to tie her to one last piece of reality.

And now they were in the middle of the war. She had watched the newest Ravenclaw prefect's eyes turn blank and unseeing as a death eater beat the battle out of him. She hadn't known him particularly well but it didn't matter. She had been there when fifteen year old Colin Creevey had his life taken away from him by a flash of green. His whole future disappeared, never to continue.

She sobbed for all of them. She sobbed for herself because a part of her had wanted to die in that battle. At least then she would have been with Cedric again. The only person who cared. Sure she had friends, but they didn't give a damn. And all of them had been broken and turned by the Carrows. No one spoke once they had established their rule. She talked back, more even than Neville Longbottom.

She was a halfblood. They tortured her mercilessly. A part of her enjoyed it, it was the only time she felt alive. Her body had something to fight for, and she never cried. Which was ironic because in everyday life she never stopped crying.

She looked out of her hotel room window at the stars. Wondering why she had been spared. Wishing she could feel alive again somehow. Her thoughts turned dark. She pushed the dangerous ideas aside with more tears. She wasn't a coward, and she didn't want to die. She wanted to be able to live. Wanted the war and Cedric's death to relinquish its hold on her so that she could be free to do whatever she wanted.

She picked up the backpack that contained all of her belongings (undetectable extension charm) and walked out of the hotel into the night. She was barely aware of her surroundings. She was only focused on one thing: her destination. She hadn't bothered wiping the tears from her face.

She was long past caring what others thought. She gave a weak smile to the man working the desk and accepted the ticket. She boarded the train that would take her away. To a place where no one knew her. Where she could start over, make new friends. Maybe even find someone to fill the hole in her heart.

She ignored the stairs as she walked down the train to a compartment at the very end. She sat down and took a deep breath as it embarked on its journey to Paris. Muggle Paris. She sat on the ugly fabric covered seat and slipped headphones into her ears.

Music and torture. The only two things that stopped the clamour in her mind. That made her heartache ease, if only for a moment. She smiled at the familiar song and closed her eyes. Deftly ignoring the tears that flew unbidden down her cheeks. Pretending that everything was okay as the music washed over her.


End file.
